Trail of Chances

by Merry Farmer

  It was just his luck that his sense of foreboding wasn’t misplaced. As soon as Butch stepped out of the warehouse to toss a bucket of dirty water into the street, he spotted Pete coming. The stocky man’s eyes went wide and the licorice root he’d been chewing dropped out of his slack mouth, hitting his feet.

  “Pete.” The single word was strangled. “What’re you doing here?”

  Frowning, Pete answered, “Coming to get my stuff.”

  “Stuff?” Butch’s voice rose an octave and cracked.

  Pete scowled and slowed his steps. “Myrtle tells me Ronny skipped town back in April.”

  Butch was good and nervous now. He set his bucket against the warehouse wall with a weak laugh. When he straightened, he wrung his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot. None of it was reassuring.

  “See, the thing is, Ronny was offered an opportunity he couldn’t pass up,” Butch began.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” Butch cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. “A fellow from Arizona Territory came through here, talking big about the railroad and supply routes around a town called Preston. Ronny figured he’d jump on it. Barely said his goodbyes to me.”

  Butch continued to look guilty, raising Pete’s suspicions even higher. “So? What does that have to do with my stuff?”

  Butch turned downright green. When he didn’t answer, Pete pushed forward, striding past him and into the dim warehouse.

  “Now Pete, it weren’t my fault. You just keep that in mind.” Butch scrambled after him.

  The warehouse must have started its life as a stable of some sort. The sides of the single, large room were divided like horse stalls. Pete turned left and marched down the aisle to the third stall on the right. He’d packed his belongings away himself years ago when he’d first made arrangements with the Crawford brothers. But when he reached his stall, even though it was stacked with crates and barrels, not one of them was his.

  “Did you move it?” he asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

  “Y-you could say that,” Butch mumbled.

  Pete rounded on him, certain that even in the dim light, his eyes still blazed with anger that was growing by the second.

  Butch held up his hands in pleading. “I had nothing to do with it, I swear. It was Ronny’s idea. He said you were getting up there, and this time you probably wouldn’t come back. Said you’d likely decide the comforts of the East were better than the ruggedness and the damp out here.”

  “Where are my things?” Pete growled.

  “He said you wouldn’t miss much of anything anyhow, and that since you were friends, you wouldn’t mind if he b-borrowed a few things.” Butch paused to swallow. “And maybe sold the rest.” His voice frittered away to nothing.

  Pete puffed out a breath, like steam leaving an engine. He raised a hand. Butch flinched. There was no point in striking the man, though. Butch may have been spineless and dumb, but Pete believed him when he said it was Ronny’s idea. He continued to sweep his hand up and took his hat off. He rubbed his sleeve across his forehead, giving himself a chance to think. This was a situation he should be able to handle. It was no different than every poor soul who had had to leave their furniture and other keepsakes behind on the trail when the wagons grew too heavy.

  “And you’re sure it’s gone for good?” he grumbled.

  Butch swallowed and nodded. “Sorry.”

  Yeah, Butch was sorry, all right. If Pete was a lesser man, he would—

  “Pete? Pete!”

  Pete’s brow flew up at Josephine’s call outside of the warehouse. Without hesitation, he pivoted and marched back down the warehouse aisle and out into the morning sun. Butch followed. Josephine stood a few yards in front of the warehouse, brow furrowed in worry. Protective concern flared in Pete’s chest. What could possibly have happened in the scant fifteen minutes since he’d left her to deal with the kids up at Myrtle’s?

  “There you are.” She heaved a breath of relief and crossed closer to him before he could ask the question.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Teddy’s offered a fair price for my wagon, but would you believe that as soon as I turned around to look for Luke to help me unload it, that rapscallion was missing?”

  Pete’s already bunched shoulders hardened further, and he slammed his hat against his thigh. Yeah, he could believe Luke would run off as quick as that. He didn’t for a moment believe that the boy wouldn’t come back when he was done with whatever mischief he’d gotten up to, though.

  He opened his mouth to tell Josephine as much, but she cut him off with, “What’s put that sour look on your face?”

  In an instant, his face went slack. After all these months, he still wasn’t used to Josephine being able to read his moods. Rather than answer outright, he crossed his arms—hat still in one hand—and turned to Butch. “You wanna tell her?”

  Butch’s mouth fell open, and he glanced between Pete and Josephine. “I…uh…um…”

  “What?” Josephine crossed her arms in a perfect, frowning imitation of Pete.

  As he should, Butch paled and took half a step back before mumbling, “My brother, Ronny, ran off with Pete’s stuff.”

  It was almost worth the frustration of being robbed to watch Josephine’s face and neck turn red, like a volcano about to blow. “He did what?”

  Pete fought to hide his grin.

  “Ran off with Pete’s stuff,” Butch answered, even quieter.

  “How dare he?” Josephine burst. “Doesn’t he know what a hard-working, noble man Pete is? Has he no concept of the good this man does or the people he helps? Why, Pete has saved lives. He deserves much better than to have some rogue steal his belongings.”

  Liquid warmth filled Pete’s stomach, and his shoulders began to relax with the praise.

  Butch, on the other hand, cowered as Josephine took a step closer to him.

  “A man’s property is sacred,” she went on, voice taking on a harder edge. “It should be respected. The man should be respected. And Peter Evans is the most respectable, admirable man I’ve ever known. He is a treasure. It’s sacrilege that you would even think of dealing dirty with him.”

  “It weren’t me, ma’am, it was Ronny.” Butch did a poor job of defending himself.

  Not that Pete gave it much notice. He was too busy getting a grip on the soft, tender feelings Josephine’s glowing endorsement left him with. Did she really think that highly of him? He certainly thought the world of her. A man could do much worse than to throw his lot in with a woman who spoke so kindly about him.

  “I don’t care if it was Ronny or John Nobody or the King of Peru.” Josephine rounded on Butch. “A man has been robbed. What do you intend to do about it?”

  “I…”

  “Or should we go to the authorities?”

  Whatever small amount of color Butch had left drained entirely. His mouth worked silently for a moment before he managed to say, “I could make up the difference? Pay you what it was worth?”

  It was clear to Pete that recompense was the last thing Butch wanted to worry about, but the man valued his balls, and Josephine was as like as not to whack them off if he didn’t appease her. For her part, Josephine crossed her arms and glanced up at Pete, checking to see what he thought of the deal.

  “Twenty bucks ought to do it,” he said, plopping his hat back on his head. In all honestly, watching Josephine tear Butch a new orifice was payment enough for him.

  For a few tense seconds, Butch looked as though he might protest. Then his shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh. “Twenty bucks it is.” He began to turn away, looking like he might grumble and complain, but one sharp look at Josephine and he kept his mouth shut. He scuttled off into the warehouse.

  Pete turned to Josephine with a fond, approving smile. “Never seen a man soil his britches quite like that before.”

  Josephine’s look of fury softened into a contented grin. “When you waltz through life on
your own in a world that insists a woman should have a husband to handle everything, you learn how to strike the fear of God into folks.”

  Pete couldn’t help himself. He chuckled and stepped closer to give Josephine a quick hug.

  Only, that hug was anything but quick. As soon as he had his arms around her, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. She felt so right pressed against him, her arms snaking around his waist. She wasn’t a small woman, but she still had to look up at him. As she did, the sunlight hit her face just so. It erased the wrinkles, softened all signs of age. Made her beautiful. Before he could stop himself, he leaned closer to her, eyes training in on her lips, his own lips tingling with anticipation.

  “Here you go.” Butch’s terse statement stopped Pete cold.

  He pushed away from Josephine and cleared his throat. The delicious blush that had come to her cheeks was too tempting to look at, so he turned away. Scowling, he pivoted to Butch. Butch held up a motley collection of bills. His eyes were round as he glanced from Pete to Josephine. The last thing Pete wanted to do was address whatever Butch thought he’d observed, so he snatched the bills and marched away.

  Josephine was quick to fall into step by his side. “I think you handled that well.”

  An unexpected chuckle burst from Pete’s lungs. “Sweetheart, you were the one who handled it.”

  He peeked at Josephine in time to see her blink, then grin with pleasure. “I suppose I did.”

  A moment later, her satisfied smile vanished with a sigh.

  “I don’t know what to do about Luke,” she rushed on. “Or the rest of the children, really. They do need homes, but I wouldn’t trust just anyone with their care.”

  Pete hummed in reply, but couldn’t think of words to go with the sound.

  Undeterred, Josephine went on. “I’m certain we can find loving, supportive, upright parents with oodles of energy for them, but…” She shook her head.

  Pete kept walking. Maybe if he walked fast enough he could escape the growing chasm in his heart that the thought of leaving the Chance children behind left him with. It made no sense to delay or prevaricate about getting them into a good home, but the very thought of walking away from Libby and Luke, Freddy and Muriel upset his stomach.

  He turned a corner and headed down a street lined with businesses.

  “Where are we going?” Josephine asked.

  “Bank,” Pete answered. He didn’t have the heart for more at the moment.

  Josephine followed him to the simple, wooden building and inside. A world of problems was pressing down on them, but at least he could ask a few questions that would take a load off his mind.

  “Pete Evans.” The banker behind the counter lit up with a smile at the sight of him. “Fancy seeing you back here.”

  “Ernest.” Pete nodded, walking up to the counter and rapping its top. “Can you tell me how much money I have in my account?”

  “Absolutely.” The banker, Ernest, stepped over to a shelf behind the counter and reached for a thick ledger. As he brought it back to where Pete stood, he nodded to Josephine. “Get yourself hitched since the last time I saw you?”

  Prickles of self-consciousness raced down Pete’s back. Why did everyone keep assuming that? “Nope,” he answered aloud. That was all he would answer. The rest was nobody’s business.

  Ernest nodded and winked at Josephine. “Checking your bank balance to see if you’ve got enough for a ring?”

  Josephine planted indignant hands on her hips and glared at Ernest with pursed lips…but she didn’t correct him.

  “Just tell me how much I have,” Pete said.

  Ernest chuckled, stopped turning pages in the ledger, then ran his finger down one column. “Ah. Here we go. Pete Evans. One thousand, three hundred fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents.”

  A wordless exclamation whooshed up from Josephine, followed by, “Pete, you’re rich!”

  Pete snorted and shook his head. “A thousand dollars is hardly rich.”

  “Yes, but it’s more than enough to retire on. Why, you could buy yourself a nice little house in town, put your feet up, and relax through the rest of your life.”

  He turned to her, one brow raised. “Who said I wanted to relax for the rest of my life?” Before she could answer, he turned back to Ernest with a nod. “Well, at least Ronny didn’t run off with my bank balance.”

  Ernest shook his head. “That man beggared a few too many good people. You’re a sensible man for keeping your earnings in the bank. I wish more men were like you.”

  Pete nodded in agreement, but rather than staying and talking to Ernest about financial planning, he nudged Josephine’s arm, then headed out of the bank and into the street. Once there, he turned his steps toward the hotel.

  “Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out how to unload your things.”

  Josephine eyed him for a long time, her eyes bright with thought. Then she sighed, shook her head, and said, “I’m more concerned about Luke. He was hard enough to handle on the trail, but now I’m concerned he’ll do himself real mischief.”

  Pete weighed her words, then said, “Luke’s a boy who wants to be a man. My gut tells me he’s testing those waters, but that he won’t drown.”

  “Let’s hope your gut is right.”

  The hotel was a hive of activity. Josephine’s wagon was still parked out back, but Pete was able to find a smaller cart to move her things into so Teddy could take the wagon away. It would have been nice if Teddy was there to help them with the shifting, but Pete figured the young man had other priorities at the moment. Priorities that involved Libby. Lucky for Josephine, Charlie and Graham offered to lend a hand, which gave Pete a chance to explain his predicament.

  “So what are you going to do?” Charlie asked as Pete finished, discreetly leaving out just how much money he had.

  “I dunno.” Pete shrugged. “I always thought that when my days on the trail were done, I’d head up north to find work in a logging camp or something.”

  “A logging camp?” Josephine balked. “Isn’t logging a…a dangerous job?”

  Pete had the feeling she’d stopped herself from saying ‘a young man’s job.’ Then again, these days he half knew just about everything she would say before she said it. And he kind of liked that feeling.

  “Not if you’re careful,” he answered. He couldn’t look her in the eye when he said it, though. And not just because he wasn’t sure if he was lying or not. There weren’t a whole lot of women in logging camps—and for good reason—but those camps were certainly no place for sophisticated, city women, like Josephine.

  “You could always come with us to Wyoming,” Graham offered.

  “I hear tell Lucy’s father, Howard Haskell, has quite a spread in the southern part of the territory,” Charlie agreed. “Olivia and I are already planning a visit.”

  “Wyoming might be a lovely place for you to settle,” Josephine added, somewhat sadder and weaker than the others.

  “Not sure I’m the settling type,” Pete said. Although saying it made him feel…unsettled. He put his energy into grunting as he moved a particularly heavy chest from Josephine’s wagon to the cart. Lord above, he’d never anticipated how difficult it would be to transition from trail boss to…to what?

  “Well, if you change your mind about Howard Haskell, be sure to let me know,” Graham said. “Estelle and I plan to stay here for a few weeks. We have to look into officially adopting Tim, and Oregon City is as good a place to do that as any.”

  “Oh, the orphans,” Josephine lamented, as if she was just considering them now instead of thinking of them every spare moment, like Pete knew she did.

  “What about them?” Charlie asked.

  “We have to find good homes for the ones that are left,” Pete answered when Josephine looked too distressed to reply herself.

  “Which ones are left?” Charlie went on.

  “Judith, Herbert, and the Chance family.”

  Graham and Charlie exchanged lo
oks. Charlie’s mouth tipped into a grin. “I thought those Chance kids were already spoken for.”

  Pete snuck a sideways glance to Josephine. Her face was pinched in every way…as if she would shatter into tears if she wasn’t careful. He knew that feeling all too well, felt it tugging at his insides.

  “We’ve got to be reasonable,” he said, low and gruff. “We’ve got to be practical about things.”

  Graham shook his head. Charlie hid a chuckle as he climbed into the wagon to fetch more of Josephine’s things from the back. It was easy for them to show doubt, but Pete knew better. He knew what he could do, and more importantly, he knew what he wasn’t cut out to do.

  “You’re right,” Josephine said softly, as if it was just the two of them talking. Her pinched look had resolved into deep sadness. “We do have to be practical. No matter what…”

  She let the rest of her sentence go.

  Pete kept on working, but every breath he took made it harder to accept the truth.

  Chapter Four

  Starting a new life was supposed to be joyful, exciting, but by the next morning, the only emotion Josephine felt was sadness in the pit of her stomach that grew with each of Muriel’s smiles, each of Freddy’s tricks, and each of Libby’s lovesick sighs. Even with Luke’s irritated scowls. She’d rather deal with scowls than with his absence.

  “Where has your brother gone off to this morning anyhow?” she asked the kids as she helped Myrtle serve eggs and sausage to a table full of boarding house guests.

  “I dunno.” Muriel shrugged and reached for her milk.

  “Me neither,” Freddy agreed. As soon as Josephine scooped a sausage onto his plate, he stabbed it with his fork and growled like a pirate.

  He could have stabbed her heart the way it was beating. How could she possible live a single day without Freddy’s exuberant charm or Muriel’s sweet smile?

  “Teddy said he wanted to take me for a walk today,” Libby announced when Josephine reached her place. How could she live without the hopeful trust in Libby’s eyes as she glanced up to her? “Is that all right?”